


In Restless Dreams

by sass_bot



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Horror, Implied Child Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 14:43:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20229577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sass_bot/pseuds/sass_bot
Summary: There are some horrors, Anya would prefer not to relive…[Originally posted on tumblr 13.10.2018]





	In Restless Dreams

Her breath comes out in even huffs, as her body struggles to keep her supplied with oxygen. She’s athletic, but even her grey warden stamina has its limits. Her soul desperately beats the walls of her lungs like it’s trying to escape.

Her heart thuds against her ears with the rhythm of a war drum and the slapping of her naked feet against the earth is the percussion. The faster she goes, the harder her braid whips against the skin of her back. She’s lost now, but it doesn’t matter; anywhere is good if it’s safer than here.

Even in the darkness, she can see the stone closing in around her—the darkspawn laughing at her because they can smell their feast fast-approaching.

“Ma…” she gasps, feeling her throat close up, punishing her for daring to speak.

The path ahead is a blur of trees—stone and lyrium—as far as the eye can see. The hound—rows of sharp, bloodthirsty teeth, laughing like hyenas—as they chase her like a lost kitten. She’s too soft—exhausted, bleeding. In spite of all lyrium around her, she’s reached the point of scraping the bottom of her reserve of mana.

She feels a clean line against her gut tear open underneath her bandages–

“Mamae!” the child’s voice cries out, shrill and dry—more like a strangled animal than an elf.

She can still move. It’s just blood. The grey warden has seen worse.

Small feet dash through stone and thorns, leaving fresh droplets of crimson in the dirt. A hound stops to lick hungrily at the ground. The scent is enough to renew their energy for the the hunt. Their prey will be dead soon enough.

Her braid rises like a leash, just far enough for a hand to reach out and grab it, sending her down into the ground like a falling statue.

Her hip hits the ground first—she feels a part of it chip off—and then her head. For a moment, the pain is all she can think about, but then she sees their faces, teasing and taunting—their razor-sharp teeth glimmering in the dim light given off by the red lyrium veins that travel through the stone.

She lies on the ground, the centerpiece of a macabre buffet. A velvet red tablecloth spreads elegantly around her, perfectly framing her—the main event.

They eye her like they can see through the armor, flesh, muscle, and bone, directly into her chest. Her heart throbs and trembles like an apple, ripe in the tree, begging to be plucked out. The slash over her womb is still bleeding, and her hand wanders over to it, trying pathetically to close it. It’s no use; the blood is already pooling around her and she’ll die soon enough.

The child freezes, wide hazel eyes staring at the moon through the canopy of trees, and subconsciously following the movements of a hound that buries its nose in her side, sniffing her the way an urchin would sniff a loaf of fresh bread. She’s just five years old—only skin and bone—not nearly big enough or lean enough to feed the entire tribe and their hounds.

The grey warden feels the blood in her hands, focusing on its warmth. She promises that if she dies here today, she won’t be the only one.

She closes her eyes and whispers a silent prayer, and for a moment, it’s as if a box has opened up and gobbled up every sound in the universe, every hurt in her body, and every thought in her head. She’s floating on air, staring up at Falon’Din—his face a complacent mask, stone grey and statuesque.

And just as quickly as she rises, she falls again, gravity snapping her back to reality, the silence, and the hurt. And she opens her eyes, watching the sky come in and out of focus. The world is still but her breath is quickening like she’s running out of air. She eyes the red splattered against the trees—dripping from the cavern ceiling—and she’s alone now. She’s safe now.

And with that, she sleeps.


End file.
